With A Dying Will
by Noxialis
Summary: - 8059 - People tend to admit their deepest secrets while dying. Gokudera was no exception.


**Title: **With A Dying Will

**Pairing: **8059

**Summary: **People tend to admit their deepest secrets while dying. Gokudera was no exception.

**Notes: **Takes place when they're around twenty years old.

I own nothing.

* * *

Dust and smoke hung heavy in the air, a combination of crumbled stone and the dynamite blasts that caused that crumbling. The Italian moonlight sparkled on the scene, as though trying to add some degree of beauty to the destruction and devastation of the centuries old manor. Unable to accomplish that task, the moon crept along as time wore on, until it could settle on the pale, blood-streaked skin of one Gokudera Hayato.

He wheezed out short and long breaths, coughing every so often from the dust and smoke, and little speckles of blood moved with the cough, jumping up into the air before landing on his chin. Gokudera groaned, thinking that he _may_ have overdone it with the dynamite. In his defense, there had been a large number of people armed with guns pointed in his and Yamamoto's faces.

At the thought of Yamamoto, his heart gave a fearful lurch, adding onto the pain that racked his whole body. He had lost track of the man after the negotiations went south, and wasn't sure if he was among the numerous bodies that lay strewn throughout the rubble.

He needed to find him. Tsuna wouldn't be very happy if one of them didn't come back. Gokudera wouldn't be very happy if Yamamoto didn't come back. He tried shifting his arms, so he could force his body off the bricks he lay on, but found that they protested with only the slightest movement. He strained his muscles, trying to lift his torso up with sheer willpower, but moved no more than an inch before he collapsed back onto the bricks. His head swam, and something wet was tickling his temple.

That _couldn't_ be a good sign.

He groaned again, trying to at least focus on his surroundings and make sure that he had at least taken out the enemies. His vision swam in and out of focus, and chose to blur out at the moment he saw a bit of movement, a figure climbing through the debris. Gokudera's body tensed, though his injuries protested the motion, but his ears soon picked up a familiar sound.

"Gokudera! Gokudera!" Yamamoto was calling his name, over and over, trying to find the Italian. His muscles relaxed and a long exhale escaped his lips, relief soaking into his skin. It was interrupted by a loud coughing fit, which Yamamoto obviously picked up on, since he rushed right over and removed a large slab of the ceiling that had been laying on Gokudera's chest.

He blinked and wondered _how_ he hadn't noticed it.

"Gokudera, are you okay?" Yamamoto held his hands awkwardly over Gokudera's body, not knowing if he should touch him or not. The question was stupid, Gokudera could tell even without looking at his body, and he let out a choking laugh.

"What do you think, idiot?" he managed to wheeze out, but found it harder to talk than he had anticipated. He had probably been a little too close to one of his blasts and got caught in the strong shockwave. Gokudera let his eyes wander, trying to assess the damage to his body.

There was just blood, probably not all from him, and shrapnel lodged into his body. Pieces of wood from the building were embedded in his legs and stomach. His hands had protected his chest and face. There were likely more pieces stuck in his back, but Gokudera was sure it would be a bad idea to turn over and try to look. It was getting harder to breathe, too, even though Yamamoto had taken the debris off his chest.

He flopped his head back down, saved from hitting it against the brick again by the firm hand of Yamamoto, fingers slipped in between matted down strands of silver hair. Gokudera closed his eyes, just feeling the warmth from the other man's hand, and the constant thrum of his heartbeat that he could feel pulsing through his skin.

His eyes opened, looking at Yamamoto, assessing the damage on the swordsman. His reflexes had obviously gotten him away from the worst of it, and he had only a few minor burns visible alongside a large gash on his chin.

"How'd you…" he had to stop for a moment and gather his breath. "… get that?" His hands still refused to move, so he jutted his chin out in a small twitch of a motion. Yamamoto gave a grim smile.

"Ah, there was a survivor. I took care of him."

"Ah…" Another breath. "Good…"

"I also called for some backup. Y'know, a medical team, just in case." He could hear the man's voice breaking, and realized his eyelids had fluttered shut. He opened them, seeing the somber expression on the man's face.

Shit. It probably _was_ as bad as Gokudera feared.

The panic rose, clutching his heart in a cold grip. His lungs seized up and Gokudera stiffened, suddenly coughing, blood splattering onto his face, his neck, Yamamoto's hand that had suddenly rose to cradle the man's cheek. Gokudera couldn't focus on what the man was saying, but the soothing sounds helped calm his breathing, even as his chest began to hurt more than ever. They waited a few moments, Gokudera regaining control over his breathing as Yamamoto softly stroked his cheek.

"I'm surprised you're letting me do this." Yamamoto said after a minute, trying to lighten the mood. Gokudera just let his eyes drift closed.

"Shut up…" Breath. "I like it…"

Yamamoto paused, surprised by the sudden admission, though he didn't take his hand away from Gokudera's chilled flesh. "Huh?"

Gokudera scoffed. "I might as well… tell ya… One of those… deathbed secrets…"

"You're not gonna die, Gokudera!"

"Shut up…" Gokudera opened his eyes and glared softly at him. "I'm trying to… tell you that… I love you… idiot…"

This time Yamamoto clutched Gokudera's head with firm fingers, leaning closer with all seriousness in his eyes. "You're not dying, Gokudera." Gokudera ignored him.

"It's too bad… I wanted to… ask you out and… we could go to that… restaurant just… down the street from… the hotel… Their food's… really good…" Yamamoto just stared at him, his thumb stroking away the blood splatters on Gokudera's cheek. The silver-haired man just stared blankly ahead, the bright moonlight occupying his vision while his eyes swam in and out of focus before becoming completely blurred by the salty tear cradled in the corners of his eyes.

"This really sucks…" he murmured, already breathless voice cracking until it was almost unrecognizable. "I wanted… to serve under the Tenth… for longer than this… I wanted to… live a full life… I wanted a chance… a real chance to be with you…" He closed his eyes, the tears spilling down to run over Yamamoto's fingers.

"Yamamoto…" he whispered, and could only hear the soft reply of the other's voice, accompanied by a wail of some kind of alarm, before he fell to the darkness.

* * *

He could hear the soft drone of humming machinery, the clicking of shoes on hard tiles, the soft chirp of birds outside, and the slow but steady beeping that sounded like it was almost right next to his ear. Gokudera cracked his eyes open, needing to make sure, and was greeted by the sight of a heart rate monitor, a physical sign of monitored life.

A soft breath escaped his lips, dry and shaky, but _there_. His eyes slipped closed again and he let it sink in: Gokudera was _alive_. The hospital bed felt like home to him, a haven cradling him, and the sterile white walls had never been so inviting.

Tsuna and the rest of the guardians came in shortly after, a doctor with them who informed Gokudera of how lucky he was to be alive. Aside from the shrapnel and burns and bruises, the dynamite's shockwave had broken a couple of his ribs. The coughing fits from the smoke and dust had jarred the ribs enough to puncture a lung, and he had suffered a small concussion.

The guardians all gave him their best wishes and told him how happy they were to see him alive and well. Even though Hibari said something about how worthless Gokudera would have been if he had died there, he was pretty sure that Hibari, deep down, was glad that Gokudera survived. Really deep down. Tsuna stayed for an extra hour, before he was called away, and Gokudera was left with Yamamoto.

He couldn't remember a time when he felt more _awkward_.

Yamamoto was staring at him, and Gokudera made it a point to look anywhere _but_ Yamamoto. He watched his heart rate, checked his IV levels, and scratched at the connecting needle before the elephant in the room was addressed.

"Gokudera…" Yamamoto began, but Gokudera groaned and flopped his head backwards onto the hospital pillow.

"Don't start. It was stupid of me to start shooting my mouth off, and I really don't need the added stress of… of _this_ tormenting me." He huffed a little, looking back at the heart rate monitor, counting two heartbeats before he continued. "I take it back."

"What?" Yamamoto's voice sounded like his usual confused, idiotic tone, and Gokudera just growled and swung his head around to look at him.

"I take it back. I don't love you. Never did. I hate you. Go away."

Yamamoto just blinked, cocking his head to the side and trying to figure the silver-haired man out. "Why…"

Gokudera just growled again. His voice was getting sore again. He needed some water. "If I didn't think that I was dying, I never would have said such asinine things." He shuffled up until he was sitting and looked over to his table, taking the glass of water Tsuna had left there. There wasn't much left, but Gokudera guzzled the last drops down before he realized he could hear the sound of Yamamoto's shoes clicking on the hard floor, getting louder and closer.

"But that still means you love me, you just don't want to admit it."

Gokudera growled again and his face flushed scarlet, though he would later claim it was due to anger, damn it.

He still had his pride. He wasn't some lovesick teenage _girl_.

The deep rumble of Yamamoto's laughter echoed in his ears, so close he could feel the heat from the man's skin. Then the man's hand was sliding over his, fingers wrapping around the glass in Gokudera's hand, and he could feel the beat of Yamamoto's heart in his hand, strong and steady.

Gokudera whipped his head around, ready to glare at the other man, but barely had a moment before a soft pressure was pressed against his lips and he could feel the blood rush through Yamamoto's arteries from a new source. A muffled, gurgled noise escaped from Gokudera's lips, and he felt Yamamoto smiling against him. Then he pulled away, all too soon, keeping the kiss only a few seconds long.

"You need more water, right? I'll go get you some." Yamamoto smiled and easily took the glass out of Gokudera's hand while the silver-haired man stared up at him, lips parted and moving in the effort to find the right words. Yamamoto chuckled and exited the room, strolling down the hallway and laughing as his ears caught the cries of "YAMAMOTO, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!"


End file.
